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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24609715">Scratch</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/reinadefuego/pseuds/reinadefuego'>reinadefuego</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Blood and Gore, Community: trope_bingo, Disturbing Themes, M/M, Sexual Content, Vore</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 09:02:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>667</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24609715</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/reinadefuego/pseuds/reinadefuego</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In truth, he's scratching an itch deep inside himself. Soothing his need to cause the monster pain.</p><p>Written for Trope Bingo Round 10: Dark Fic.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Fenrir Greyback/Remus Lupin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Trope Bingo: Round Ten</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Scratch</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It's the way he tastes that leaves Fenrir wanting more. That bitter note of adrenaline in his blood, the salty tang of the sweat that clings to his chest hairs. Combine that with the smooth thick slippery feel of clots against his tongue and you've almost got a perfect meal. All he wants, <em>needs</em>, now is flesh. Warm supple flesh with just the right amount of subcutaneous fat that will make this a meal worthy of an alpha.<br/><br/>Unfortunately, death is off the table. This skinny tempter, young and defiant and ignorant of all werewolf norms, this <em>twink</em> who looks him in the eyes and demands what is not his to demand, refuses to be killed. There are other ways, he says.<br/><br/>Fenrir doesn't like those other ways.<br/><br/>They're boring and far too tame for his tastes. How can you feast yet not kill? To stalk and hunt, to kill someone whilst they scream and plead, knowing all that power is in your hands, is one of the greatest feelings Fenrir has experienced. It's better than sex or a cocaine-induced high, better than watching his victims writhe on the ground after being struck by a curse. Power is pleasure. Nothing could be simpler than that fact and yet here he lies, as powerless as a boar about to be spitroasted, and all Fenrir can think is 'I need more.'<br/><br/>"I can't let you go," Remus says, straddling Greyback's chest, "you <em>know</em> that."<br/><br/>He licks his lips, stares at the meat of Lupin's inner thigh, and wonders whether he could reach it if he craned his neck far enough forward. The full moon won't happen for another week but Fenrir can already feel its pull. As the moon waxes, its power draws him closer and closer to the brink of losing what semblance of humanity he has. "Yes," he growls, "you can."<br/><br/>The smell of wet heat wafts from Remus' crotch and Fenrir <em>knows</em>. He wants it too but the false prince is still trapped by wizard rules. This man, the boy who should be his successor, clings to the old ways and plays pretend. But once the Dark Lord rises, Remus won't have to pretend anymore; they can shed these false skins and free themselves.<br/><br/>"Little Lupin, Little Lupin, let me in," Fenrir sings softly, breathing in the heady scents of arousal, blood and anger. "Come closer, <em>volk.</em>"<br/><br/>Stupid mistakes are the story of his life. He ought to know better by now than to trust the word of a sadomasochistic monster, but Remus leans forward anyway. In the moments after, he wonders why he did it. Why he listened.<br/><br/>Teeth bite into flesh like an axe bites into trees and Fenrir hauls him forward with only the strength of his jaw, till that arousal is firmly pressed against his neck and all he can smell is Lupin. Blood pools in his mouth and runs like streams through the gaps between his teeth.<br/><br/><em>Little Lupin.</em> Remus closes his eyes and reaches down, burying his fingers in a gaping wound to Fenrir's hip. The muscle stretches around his fingers, blood squelching as he begins pushing his fingers in deeper and easing them back and forth. One could say he's almost <em>fucking</em> Fenrir with his fingers but in truth, he's scratching an itch deep inside himself. Soothing his need to cause the monster pain. <em>One day I will kill you, Greyback. You and all the others.</em><br/><br/>As the ropes fray and break, Fenrir frees his left arm and seizes Remus by the neck, pulling him into a messy kiss. Blood and saliva mixes and clings to their lips, forming red strands between them, and slowly Greyback feels the barriers within his mind begin to lower. The divide between man and beast lessens till <em>finally</em>, finally, he can hear Remus' heart pounding away in his chest and the wheeze of his lungs. "Take it all off," he orders, digging his nails into Remus' neck hard enough to draw blood, "now."</p>
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